


not the jade named

by Lake (beyond_belief)



Category: Once a Thief (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex Pollen, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 13:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16995624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake
Summary: Mac gets sex pollened. Then Vic does, too.





	not the jade named

As annoying as he was, Mac was normally fairly punctual in the morning, jumping into Vic's truck and opening his mouth to rattle off something stupid pretty much when he was supposed to. This morning, though, Vic's been drumming his fingers on the steering wheel along with the music several minutes longer than usual, and he's finished nearly his entire cup of coffee - still no Mac. "Fuck it," he mutters to himself, and swings the truck into what's mostly a parking space. 

He's got a key he probably shouldn't have, given the way the Director slid it into his pocket a few weeks ago, so when there's no response to his knocking and repeated calls of Mac's name, he carefully unlocks the door. There are no immediate signs of a struggle, which is good, and no immediate smell of death. There is a sort of flowery-sweet scent in the air, which Vic figures is probably from the vase full of weird flowers on the counter. He doesn't see anything to signify something bad happening; Mac's a little sloppy but none of his stuff seems to be irregularly out of place.

"Mac?" he calls, keeping one hand on his gun. "Mac, you here?"

There's a soft noise from the bedroom. Vic doesn't hesitate, just draws his firearm and goes around the corner. The door is ajar and he can see there isn't any light on. There might be a shape on the bed. Carefully, he nudges the door open. 

"Who's there?" Mac calls, voice slurring on the words. "Please, oh..."

Vic holsters the gun and gets to the bed in three long steps. Mac's twisted in a sheet. He looks like he's sweating. "It's me, Mac. It's Victor. Are you sick?"

Mac looks like he's trying to open his eyes and failing. "No, I..."

Vic switches on the bedside light and sees that Mac's face is flushed, and the pink goes down his neck and over his chest. He's also - oh. "What the fuck, man, you take too many Viagra just for fun?"

Mac sucks in a breath and shakes his head. "Happened to me once in Hong Kong... flowers..." He shudders. "Pollen, I think."

Vic puts the back of his hand on Mac's forehead. It's too hot. "You're burning up, dude."

"Tell me something I don't know," Mac sighs. He twists away from Vic, taking the sheet with him, and curls in on himself. "Tell - tell them I'm sick, okay?" 

"I'll get you a glass of water." He pats Mac's bare shoulder awkwardly. Mac makes a startled sound and Vic pulls his hand away immediately. "Uh. Yeah, you're probably dehydrated."

There are a couple plastic cups in Mac's bathroom, so he fills up two of them with cold tap water, then calls the Agency. After bypassing the computer-voiced menu meant to dissuade people from calling that number, he gets Dobrinsky and says that Mac's sick, so he won't be in, and Vic's going to be late. "Mm-hmm," Dobrinsky replies, "hold on."

Vic puts the cups on the bedside table and tries not to watch Mac twitch. The room feels too hot and it even smells like the flowers in here, so he opens the window a little and feels slightly woozy as the cooler air rushes in over his face. 

There's a rattle as Dobrinsky comes back on the line. "Mansfield. Don't bother coming in. She says not to let him die, but other than that..."

"Ha ha," Vic replies, and hangs up. The room is still way too hot, and he opens the window further. 

"Won't help," Mac mumbles.

"What?"

Mac shifts, halfway sitting up. "Shouldn't have come in. Why - why d'you have a key?"

He sounds like he's having trouble controlling his breathing correctly enough to speak. "I think you ought to drink some water and lie back down. Get some more sleep," Vic tells him. He reaches up to loosen the collar of his button down; he's sweating now, too. That's weird, it's not really warm enough outside for it. "Mac, you listening?"

Mac slumps back against his pillows. His chest is hairier than Victor would expect from someone with Mac's lean martial-arts physique. Vic tries again. "Are. You. Listening?"

Then he sways on his feet and reaches out for something to grab but there's nothing except Mac's bed, and he falls onto it. "Flowers," Mac drawls. Then he rolls on top of Vic.

"What are you - get off me -" He tries to push Mac away but his arms feel rubbery, and his palms are sweaty. "What's wrong with me?"

"Been here too long," Mac mumbles against his neck, then nods, like he's agreeing with his own words. "I would say I'm sorry, but..." 

It takes Vic more than a few seconds to assemble the question in his head. Precious seconds where Mac is rubbing somewhat shamelessly against him, and Vic can't think. "You mean you're rubbing your dick on me because of something in the flowers?"

"Pollen," Mac says agreeably, and then he wiggles a hand down between them to cup Vic's crotch through his jeans, making him sputter and jump, except he can't really jump because almost all of him feels rubbery now. Except for where Mac's hand is squeezing gently. 

"Are we..." he manages to say, shaping the words around the hazy feeling enveloping him, "are we really going to have sex, Mac, this seems like a very bad -"

Mac cuts him off with his mouth on Vic's mouth, lazy but still with pressure, just like Mac himself sort of is. He doesn't go for the tongue right away, which Vic would be surprised by if he was currently able to feel surprise. 

"- idea," Vic finishes. Mac unbuckles his belt in reply, then seems to rethink his strategy and slides down the bed, getting Vic's boots off while swearing fuzzily at the laces, then removing Vic's ankle holster. He loses the sheet along the way. He's not even wearing boxers. "Oh," Vic says, so coherent. 

Mac glances up at him, then down at himself. Almost conversationally, he says, "I was trying to jerk off when you - when you barged in."

"I didn't barge in, you weren't answering." He grunts as Mac yanks off his jeans, then hands are unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom up.

"Another fucking shirt underneath?" he hears Mac say, and he rubs a hand over his eyes, woozy again. The other hand he reaches out for Mac, finding shoulder, then bicep, before sliding sideways to run his fingers through the hair on Mac's chest. Then Mac knocks his hand away to pull at his t-shirt. "Why - why do you always wear these stupid outfits?"

"What?" 

Mac grunts and rolls them over so that Vic's on top. The dizzy feeling passes after a second but he still has to rest his forehead on Mac's shoulder. "This happened to you before?" he manages to ask.

Fingers pull gently at his hair. "Huh?"

"You said this happened once before, in Hong Kong. What did you do?"

"What did I do _about it_? I got fucked, Vic."

"Oh," Vic breathes, his brain fuzzing with blurry images. "You - that?"

Mac rolls up against him. "Yeah, you can do it to me."

Victor's not entirely sure that holds up as consent, but he doesn't think either one of them could stop now without being restrained. He gets a hand around Mac's dick and Mac goes completely quiet, none of the small noises he's been unable to stop making. It's an uncharacteristic silence, like all the sound in the room has disappeared. He strokes, slowly, and Mac's face moves like he wants to speak but can't. "Tell me again," Vic says, nuzzling Mac's neck. The skin there is soft. Vic is distantly aware that he would never think that, if not for whatever's wrong with them.

"You. Can. Fuck. Me," Mac says, and spreads his legs.

Vic leaves his face against Mac's neck, breathes, "Oh, Jesus Christ."

Mac rolls against him again, skin hot and sticky, mumbling how Victor should hurry up with his cock already. Vic tries to order his thoughts, think logically about what step comes next. Lube, right; Mac isn't going to get wet like a woman. Vic's pretty sure it doesn't work like that with a dude. "Mac, you - got some slick? Somewhere?"

Mac's teeth scrape over Vic's collarbone for a second before he replies. "Under the bed."

Under the bed. That sounds right for Mac. 

Vic scoots over towards the edge of the mattress, then flails his hand around under the bed frame. He encounters what feels like a shoebox without a lid, and tugs it out to grope around inside. He finds a slim bottle and what feels like a condom packet. "Think I got it," he says, as Mac does a few more unspeakable things to his neck. 

"Take your fucking underwear off," Mac says in reply.

It takes Vic more than one try, between the material catching on his damp skin and Mac pressing up against his back, his hands trying to slide around to Vic's crotch. "Hang on - fuck, Mac - wait just a goddamned -"

His briefs go flying across the room and Mac hauls him away from the edge of the bed. "I can do the work," Mac breathes, a wild look on his face as he pushes Vic onto his back with one hand and palms Vic's cock with the other. 

Vic feels like there's six of him trying to work out what to do all at once; he wants to fuck Mac, which itself is _insane_ , and Mac definitely looks and sounds like he wants to get fucked. But there's still a part of his brain yelling that this is a bad idea, that he'll feel like he took advantage of Mac's pliable state, that Mac will loathe him even more whenever this wears off.

And then there's LiAnn.

"You said... all that out loud," Mac says. He nips at Vic's earlobe, and not gently. "Should've - God, I should have figured that you'd still try to be nice."

"What…"

Mac puts a hand in the center of his chest, keeping him in place, even though Vic doesn't think he could move even if he really wanted to. He takes a deep breath, then says, clearly working hard to make each word coherent, "I'm not gonna hate you tomorrow. And when this happened to me before…" 

He trails off, his eyes slipping shut and his mouth opening slightly. It takes Vic a second to realize Mac's thinking about the last time, and a completely irrational wave of jealousy runs through him. He squeezes Mac's hips without even thinking about it. "What? What about when it happened before?"

"I told LiAnn." Mac opens the lube and squeezes some onto his fingers. His cock rubs against Vic's as he leans forward, reaching back with his wet fingers. A low moan escapes his mouth and Vic realizes: Mac's fingering himself. 

Victor has to actively re-route his thoughts. "You _told_..."

Mac shudders. His entire face, his neck and chest, the skin is flushed hot. Vic raises a hand to touch, unthinking, running his fingers through Mac's stupid chest hair. Then down further, and Mac's dick nearly leaps into his hand. "Fuck, Vic," Mac groans as Vic strokes him slowly, marveling at the heat of the thin skin against his palm. 

Then Mac pushes him away, flat onto the bed again, and after swearing at the condom wrapper for a while, manages to rip it open. He rolls the condom down onto Vic's cock without ceremony, then straddles Vic's hips and digs his knees in for a second. "This better be enough consent for you," he mumbles, and Victor gasps as Mac strokes a lube-wet palm over his cock for a moment before lining up and sinking down. An immediate rush of heat rolls through him, so strong he can't stop his eyes from closing and his neck from arching, even though he wants to _look_. 

"You better last at least a few minutes," he hears Mac grumble. 

Vic rolls his hips experimentally, setting Mac cursing and digging fingertips into Vic's shoulders. "No promises." 

Obvious anatomy aside, and Mac's chest hair and leg hair and everything, it's not much different from having a woman riding his cock. Mac's weight is what he feels the most; Vic feels pressed down into the mattress. He's got enough core strength to thrust upwards despite that, but his ass is going to rub raw against the sheet if they do it like this for very long. And Mac is sweating on him, that's gross. He squeezes Mac's bony hip with one hand, then curls the other slowly around Mac's jutting erection. 

"Fuck, Vic," Mac groans. 

"Where do you hide your dick in those pants you wear?" Vic asks, feeling stupid before the question is entirely out of his mouth.

"Ha, ha." Mac grinds down, making them both moan, and Vic tightens his hand a little. "Oh, what the - Christ, Victor."

Victor can admit Mac's got a nice cock, like, he'd normally feel some sort of jealousy having to do with LiAnn. But right now he can't quite call up that feeling, and instead just strokes Mac's dick until Mac can't talk, and is making a bunch of noises that make no sense. Then Mac grinds down dirty and Vic loses his light grip on the curve of Mac's hipbone, just slides his hand upward over Mac's belly to his chest, feeling like he's having some sort of out of body experience the whole time, and scrapes his thumbnail lightly over Mac's nipple. 

Mac jerks, makes a high-pitched sound, and comes all over Vic's stomach. "You - just fuck me, come on," he says - slurs, really - as he folds forward, sex-tense muscles all going limp.

Vic lasts another fifteen seconds, or something close to that.

Convincing his limbs to coordinate enough to untangle himself from Mac seems to take a lot longer than it usually takes Vic to rouse himself after sex, and Mac doesn't seem much better. He slides off Vic into a lump on one side, grumbling things that sounds meaningless and sticking his bare feet under the crumpled top sheet. 

It takes Vic another oddly long stretch of time to make his mouth move the right way to ask what the fuck that just was, and Mac flops a hand up to pat his face. "The flowers," he mumbles. "Won't hold it against you, promise."

"...right." He pushes Mac's hand away. "Quit smothering me."

Mac breathes loudly for a few minutes. Then he says, "If we both go to work today the Director will make sex faces at us."

"She'd do that anyway. I already called you in - I think Dobrinsky just laughed at me, though."

"Dobrinsky would do that anyway, that asshole." Mac stretches, then rolls smoothly off the bed and to his feet. 

Vic is suddenly very aware of where he is, and that there's still a condom on his dick. "I'll, um. Go."

Mac shrugs, lean and seemingly unconcerned. "You can clean up first," he says, looking pointedly at Vic's groin. Then he picks up what turns out to be a robe from the floor, and walks out of the room.

Vic deals with the condom, wipes down with a crumpled hand towel that Mac's got on the bathroom counter, and chugs a glass full of water, in that order. He yanks his clothes on as quickly as possible. He still feels overly warm, and now sort of sticky on top of that. The sensation of cloth against his skin is slightly unnerving. 

"Mac," he calls, easing into the hall. "How - how long will I feel, uh -"

"Not exactly yourself?" Mac asks. Vic sees he's doing something at the stove, which leaves a clear path to the front door of the apartment. "Couple hours."

"Right." He edges towards the door.

"Vic."

"Yeah?"

Mac points over his shoulder at the vase on the counter. "Throw that in the dumpster on your way out, would you?"

**Author's Note:**

> "Lake," I thought to myself last year, "this fandom needs some trope fic. You should write some." Then I only worked on this about fifty words at a time when I remembered it existed. Whoops. 
> 
> Title from [this poem.](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/hothouse)


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